


Welcome to Timesdale

by DisnerdingAvenger



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Community (TV), Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: AU, Community College, F/M, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Humor, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-25
Updated: 2014-08-25
Packaged: 2018-02-14 17:26:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2200524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisnerdingAvenger/pseuds/DisnerdingAvenger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Community!AU. James McCrimmon is forced to attend Timesdale Community College after he is caught with a fake law degree. He forms a study group to impress Rose Tyler. It backfires tremendously.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Welcome to Timesdale

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on the television show "Community". While parts of it will shadow the tropes of the show, a lot of this is going to be entirely original; meaning, while Jemma is a lot like Annie, she's also like Troy and Abed, and so on. None of the characters shadow one character in specific, other than Ten and Rose being Jeff and Britta. 
> 
> Comments are encouraged!

James McCrimmon was a man of many talents; suit shopping, hair sculpting, degree falsifying. The last of which being why he was currently leaning against the hood of his blue corvette, scowling at the sight of the campus before him.

Timesdale Community College was the place where all of your hopes for a reputable education got flushed down the toilet; also known as the school that would accept virtually everyone. Even a washed up lawyer who lost his job because it was brought to the firm's attention that his law degree wasn't entirely legit.

Huffing as he locked his car, James adjusted his glasses on his nose and started toward the dean's office. They had met once before over the summer, to discuss his enrollment, but today they were meeting under slightly different conditions; today was the first time James was meeting with him as a student, and the thought made him wrinkle his nose with distaste. A few months ago he was a hot shot lawyer in London, living in a penthouse flat and drinking champagne while watching football on a plasma television set. Now he was  _here_ , about to go obtain a schedule so he could sit in classrooms with people half his age who couldn't get into better schools, and people his own age who were here by choice. He wasn't sure which of the two was sadder.

Striding into the office and up to the secretary's desk, James tapped his knuckles atop the surface to get her attention. When she glanced up, clearly less than amused, he flashed her a false smile.

"Could you tell the dean I'm here to see him?"

"And who might you be?" she asked, and his lips twitched. Truthfully, he didn't want to say his name aloud. He didn't want anyone who might, on the off chance, recognize him to know that  _James McCrimmon_  was being forced to attend community college- and  _this_  community college, of all possible places. Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his blue suit pants, he leaned a bit closer, clearing his throat before quietly saying, "James McCrimmon."

"And are you a new student, James McCrimmon?"

Rolling his eyes when the older woman seemed to purposefully say his name loudly enough for the people in the hall to hear, he sighed heavily and nodded.

"Yes."

"Very well. Have a seat over there."

Furrowing his brow, James glanced over his shoulder before looking back at the secretary.

"I'm sorry-?"

" _Please go and have a seat over there._  He's with another student right now. You'll have to wait."

 _Wait?_  Wait and risk having more people see him here than necessary? Oh, she had to be joking- but, from the look on her face, she wasn't. He was just about to give in and go sit in one of the plastic red chairs when the dean's office door opened, and a blonde woman walked out. The dean followed a few steps after her, lingering in the doorway.

"Thank you, Miss Tyler. I'm sure you're going to enjoy your time here at Timesdale; if you have any further questions, don't hesitate to ask."

"Of course. Thank you," she replied, glancing at James before brushing past him and walking out the door into the hallway. He watched her go rather appreciatively, his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. Suddenly, Timesdale wasn't seeming like such a horrible place after all.

"The dean will see you now, Mr. McCrimmon," the secretary said, snapping James out of his smirking state, and he quickly turned to face the desk again, nodding and walking around it to enter the dean's office. It certainly wasn't the nicest one he'd ever seen; the office was small and painted a rather unappealing shade of green, and the desk took up nearly half of the space. Evidently the school's budget was tighter than he had assumed.

"James! Good to know you weren't snatched away from us by another community college over the summer. What can I do you for?"

"I'm here for my schedule," he stated, eyeing the discolored fabric chair before deciding to stand rather than risk soiling his suit. The dean was a man by the name of Phil Coulson and, despite its deteriorating state, he was ridiculously proud of his school.

"Ah. Of course. Have you met any of your classmates yet? They seem to be quite a likable bunch," Coulson chatted absently as he printed out the schedule in question for James, to which the younger man shook his head, his arms crossed over his chest while he waited. As if he would go out of his way to talk to any of these people- although, Miss Tyler hadn't seemed like such a bad catch- er, person. She hadn't seemed like such a bad  _person_.

"I came straight here," he responded simply, rubbing the back of his neck, and Coulson nodded with a small grin as he pulled the schedule from the printer and extended it across the desk for James to retrieve.

"You're eager to get started, then?"

"Eager to finish," James replied plainly as he took the sheet of paper, eyeing it before a frown pulled at his lips. That couldn't be right.

"I'm sorry, French 101? I hardly think that's necessary for a law degree. And Culinary Arts? Pottery?  _Astrology?_ "

"Astrology can be very useful with law," Coulson replied, shrugging his shoulders, "Knowing which signs get along with-"

"I don't need any of these classes. Change it," James hissed, slapping the paper back down on the desk and pushing it toward the dean, who looked rather conflicted.

"Actually, you do. You'll require a full course load for four years to make up for that law degree- and you refused to come in and pick your courses when we asked you to over the summer."

"I was on vacation in Barcelona! I wasn't going to give up _that_  to come and pick classes!" James replied, pulling at his hair, and Coulson pushed the schedule back toward him.

"Not our problem. All of the other classes are full. You'll just have to suck it up. Maybe next time you'll fill out the course application forms."

Pursing his lips and staring down at the older man, James huffed after a few moments, snatching up the schedule before stalking out of the office, grumbling profanities under his breath as Coulson called out good luck. It was bad enough that he had to be here, but now he was stuck taking pointless courses, as well? He was going to be stuck in this hell hole forever, and his first form of punishment was sitting through French 101 with Professor Jones in... five minutes.

Bloody hell.

... . ... . ... . ... . ...

Upon arriving at the class, James noticed two things. The first thing being that Professor Jones was an older woman who was likely a stickler for discipline, meaning this would not be a blow off class like he had hoped, and the second thing being that  _Miss Tyler_  was in French 101 as well- and the seat next to hers was empty. How the hell was that seat empty? Were the people in this class blind?

"Mind if I sit?" he inquired, and she looked up from her textbook, a strand of her straight blonde hair falling into her brown eyes in the process. When she shrugged and looked back down at her book, he pulled out the chair and took a seat, turning up his charm as high as it would go. If he was stuck here, he might as well make the most of it.

"James McCrimmon," he supplied, flashing her a smile. "You might have heard of me."

"Rose Tyler," she responded without looking up, turning the page of her textbook instead, "and no, I have not."

He opened his mouth to reply but the bell rang before he could, cutting him off. Before he could attempt speaking again, Professor Jones was at the front of the room and addressing them all.

"Harriet Jones. Professor of French 101."

Silence followed, save for a person coughing in the back, and James furrowed his brow. Did she expect a response from that?

"We know who you are," a student behind them stated, and she nodded, walking up to the blackboard to write down her name and the course, speaking all the while.

"I will be your professor for the entirety of the year, and possibly longer if you choose to take French 102, 103, and so on. I will also be your professor for longer if you fail this course, which is highly possible if you do not pay attention. Learning a language is not just a task, it is an  _art,_ and, just like with any form of art, some of you are destined to be better at it than others. For the first week, I will be speaking in English until you get used to my teaching methods, and after that I will speak only in French. I suggest you take notes for each class over the next five days, whilst I explain the basic principals of the language. After that, you are on your own. Don't get left behind."

Another silence followed, this one possibly driven by fear of what was to come, and, when no one raised their hand to ask her a question, Professor Jones continued.

"Please turn to page thirty-four in your textbooks. We will begin today's lesson by learning common verbs."

"Bloody hell," James muttered as the room was filled with the rustling of pages, turning to face Rose. "I had no idea I was going to wind up in this class, so I haven't got a textbook. Would you mind if I shared yours?"

He thought he saw her roll her eyes, to which he arched a brow, but she nudged the book between them just the same, nodding with a sigh.

"Yeah. Sure. But only for today. These things aren't cheap; you need to get your own so that you can study."

"Yes, of course," he agreed with a nod, grinning once her eyes were trained once again on the book before them both. Leaning possibly a bit closer than he needed to be- doing so entirely on purpose- James inhaled a subtle breath of her scent. Her perfume wasn't overpowering; it was a subtle blend of something floral and something else that smelled similar to rain. Her hair smelled like honeysuckle. Oddly enough, she seemed to smell like everything but roses. Maybe that was her intention.

"That's a lovely perfume. What is it-?"

" _Shh,_ " she shushed him, and he nearly huffed. Women didn't  _shush_  him. He was  _James McCrimmon_.

"Now, on page 34, you will find a list of commonly used verbs in both French and English. I want you to memorize the list for tomorrow's class. Today, we will be starting our first assignment."

There was a mutual groan of displeasure among the class, and Professor Jones pursed her lips.

"That will be quite enough of that! You are all mature adults, and I don't expect such childish behavior."

Another silence. Shaking his head, James rolled his eyes.

"Do you have a problem with that?"

It took James a moment to realize that the professor had spoken to him and everyone, including Rose, was staring.

"Sorry, what?"

"You rolled your eyes at my statement."

"I-"

"What is your name?"

This time, it was James who struggled not to groan. He wanted to keep his presence here low key, and that couldn't happen if professor's drew attention to him like he was back in primary school.

"It's James," he supplied, leaving his last name out of it, and he watched as Professor Jones walked up to him.

"Well, James, I do not appreciate being disrespected in my own classroom. You can either behave like an adult, or you can leave."

Beside him, Rose smirked, and he caught sight of it in the corner of his eye. Crossing his arms over his chest, he leaned back in his chair and shrugged.

"Alright. It won't happen again."

"I should hope not. And where are your books?"

"I haven't got any. Taking this class wasn't exactly in my master plan."

"I couldn't care less what your 'master plan' is; if you're going to be here, you'll do well to obtain your own books. I won't tolerate you mooching off of your classmates again after today."

"Alright."

"And perhaps you can do us the honor of beginning today's assignment."

"I would prefer not to," James responded, and now Rose rolled her eyes at his childish behavior. Luckily Professor Jones didn't notice.

"I didn't say you had a choice. Choose one of the verbs on that list, and construct a sentence using it. I will then translate it to French for you, and you will repeat it."

Barely managing to not roll his eyes once again, James looked down at the textbook before him, heaving a sigh.

"Fine. Borrow. Rose Tyler let me  _borrow_  her textbook, because the dean failed to inform me that, if I didn't fill out the course application sheets over the summer, I would have no say over what courses I had to take."

"Rose Tyler m'a prêté ce livre parce que le doyen n'a pas réussi à me faire savoir que si je n'ai pas terminé les fiches de demande de cours pendant l'été, je n'aurais rien à dire sur les cours que je devais prendre," Professor Jones translated easily into French, looking at James expectantly.

Clearly wishing he'd chosen a simpler sentence, James kept quiet. A moment later, he asked, "Is it too late to change my sentence?"

Professor Jones ended up rolling  _her_  eyes at that, waving him off as she walked up to the front of the room again to address the entire class. Afterward, they all recited sentences in turn until the bell rang to dismiss them all. Rose stood and collected her textbook and notebook along with her pens, stuffing them into her bag so she could go, and James' eyes widened slightly. He'd clearly made a rubbish first impression with his sassing the professor like a child, and he was quick to attempt repairing it.

"So... listen," he tried as he stood, and she paused and glanced at her watch.

"What? I have classes to get to."

"Oh, yes, I know that; I was just thinking... This morning, I organized a study group."

She raised a skeptical eyebrow and he kicked himself. Really? A fictional study group? That was the best he could come up with?

"Oh really? You organized a study group?"

"Yes! Yes, I did it this morning. We're meeting today at four after classes get out. It's a French study group, in the library. I was just thinking... Well, I'm rubbish at French but I have no choice but to take it, so why not get a bit of help?"

She still looked rather skeptical, but gave him the benefit of the doubt as she nodded.

"And I suppose you want me to come to this study group?"

Flashing her a charming smile, he shrugged.

"If you want to. It could be fun..."

Sighing, she nodded again, heading out the door.

"Alright. We'll see."

That was as good as a yes, in James' books. There was only one problem; he didn't actually  _have_  a study group.

Turning on his heel to face the nearly empty classroom, he hurried to the back where one boy in his early twenties was lingering. Slapping his hands down on the desk he was retrieving his things from, causing the boy to jump, James grinned.

"What's your name?"

The boy gaped at him with clear blue eyes, his mouth agape as he struggled to form a coherent sentence. Finally, in a Scottish accent, he replied, "Leo. Leo Fitz."

"Well, Leo-"

"Just Fitz. People call me Fitz."

"Well,  _Fitz_ , today is your lucky day."

The boy looked confused as he adjusted the strap of his messenger bag on his shoulder, glancing around before letting his gaze fall on James again in the now empty classroom.

"Why is it my lucky day, exactly?"

"Because," James responded, helping him put away the rest of his books and pens before walking with him to the door, "you're going to join my study group."

"I am?"

"You are."

"Why?"

"Because study groups are  _cool_ , Fitz. Don't you want to be cool?"

The boy looked thoughtful upon being asked that, shrugging after a moment of contemplating, walking down the bustling hallway alongside James, who had his hands stuffed into his pockets again.

"I've never been cool before."

"Well I have, and it's  _fantastic_. Trust me, Fitz; you come to the library today at four o'clock, and I'll give you a taste of what being cool feels like."

"But doesn't studying make people  _un_ cool?" he asked, furrowing his brow, and James patted him on the back.

"You've never studied with James McCrimmon. Four o'clock. Don't be late!"

Fitz stood still in the hallway as he watched James jog off, glancing down at his schedule again and heading in the direction of his next class. He didn't really care all that much about being cool or popular, but he wouldn't mind if he met some friends. He'd sort of lacked in that department for most of his life, right up until this very moment. Maybe joining a study group wouldn't be such a bad idea.

... . ... . ... . ... . ... . ...

Culinary Arts was a doughy disaster. Pottery was just as much of a mess. Astrology was just downright stupid. As he walked down the hall in the direction of the library, blue suit jacket slung over his shoulder, James sighed. Maybe this terrible first day would end a bit better than it had been thus far. Maybe he'd be able to impress Rose Tyler without a bitter French professor breathing down his neck. Maybe he'd get a good shag.

All thoughts of that possibility flew out the window when he opened the door to the study room and came face to face with not just Rose and that Fitz kid, but also four other people he'd never seen before in his life. They were all seated around a table, chatting amicably, and Rose grinned when he walked in.

"If it isn't the man of the hour!"

"Ehm... yes. I'm sorry, who are all of you?"

One of the strangers, a redheaded woman at the head of the table sat beside a young man with dirty blonde hair, rolled her eyes and scowled.

"Maybe if you'd spent less time mouthing off this morning, you'd have noticed all of us."

"You really don't remember them?" Rose asked, arching an eyebrow from her own seat which, much to James' distaste, was beside one occupied by a rather handsome man. "These are some of our classmates from French 101. I took the liberty of inviting them to the study group- and it's a good thing I did. Only one of the people you invited this morning actually showed up," she stated, gesturing to Fitz, whose cheeks turned pink.

"Alright, so I was a bit distracted during this morning's class. That doesn't answer my question: who are all of you?"

"Donna Noble," the redhead stated, arms crossed over her chest, and the young man beside her who was slouching in his seat said, "Harold Saxon."

He was dressed in a dark sweatshirt and ripped jeans, and looked like he wanted to be anywhere but at Timesdale Community College. James could relate.

"Jack Harkness," the man beside Rose announced himself with a smirk, and James own lips pulled down into a frown at his accent.

"What's an American doing at Timesdale? Don't they have rubbish community colleges in your own country?"

Frowning, Rose huffed. "Oi! You don't have to be rude. Jack happens to be a drama major. He transferred here this year to improve on his accent work."

"I did," Jack confirmed, and James rolled his eyes. A drama major. That explained the smugness and how he was able to get on his nerves with only a few words. Turning to the final stranger, a rather prim and proper girl sat beside Fitz, James sighed.

"And who might you be?"

Sitting up a bit straighter, if possible, she offered a small smile.

"Jemma Simmons, sir."

"You don't need to call me  _sir_ ," James stated, rolling his eyes, and the girl frowned, leaning back in her chair again, "I'm not your father."

"I'm perfectly aware of that, thank you," she quipped, frowning more deeply, and James pulled out a chair, draping his jacket over the back before sitting down. So much for being able to flirt with Rose Tyler; at this rate, he'd be lucky if he ever got a second alone with her. Not to mention she didn't seem to be about to pay attention to him when she was sitting next to Mr. Jack-I'm-A-Drama-Major-Harkness. This hadn't been a part of his plan. Could this day possibly get any worse?

"Well, if we're not expecting anyone else, I really think we should get started," Jemma stated, opening her textbook, and Fitz nodded in agreement. James watched with a frown as the rest of the group followed their lead, and shook his head when they all turned to him expectantly as he just sat there.

"What?"

He hadn't factored in that, if he started a study group, he might actually have to  _study_.

"You still haven't got your own book?" Rose asked, and James huffed.

"The store was closed."

"No it wasn't. I had to walk past it to get here. It's open until nine," Fitz informed him, and James gave him a false smile.

"Well golly gee, Fitz. Thanks for the memo. I'll be sure to head straight there after our meeting has finished. Which, really, could be any time. This was more of an informational get-to-know-each-other sort of thing anyway. We can always start the real studying at a later date- on second thought, maybe this wasn't such a good idea. I'm really very busy-"

"You're quitting your own study group," Rose observed as he stood, causing him to pause.

"I-"

"Informational meeting? But we have to have all of these verbs memorized for tomorrow; I really think we should actually study," Jemma spoke up, more focused on the genuine point of the study group than the fact that its founder was quitting after five minutes.

"Actually, I think Fancy Hair has a point," Donna disagreed, and James frowned with confusion. "We aught to get to know each other a bit, don't you think?"

"Well, I suppose, but-"

"Oh, calm down, Miss Busy Body; you're not going to fail the class if we take ten minutes to learn a bit about each other."

Jemma fell silent at Donna's statement, and James shook his head.

"Didn't you hear what I just said?"

"I did. I also thought it was bloody stupid, so sit down. You don't get to start a study group and then quit it."

"Donna's right. That is stupid," Rose agreed and, begrudgingly, James took his seat again. The whole point of this plan was to get a chance to sleep with the pretty girl he laid his eyes on in the office this morning; was he really willing to give up so easily? He was James McCrimmon, and James McCrimmon  _always_  got the girl.

"Alright, fine. Fine, good, just dandy. Let's get to know each other. Then, maybe later, we can do each other's hair and talk about the blokes we fancy."

"Are you gay, mate?" Harold asked, and James' eyes widened.

"I'm sorry?"

"Do you fancy men?"

"I-"

"Because you look gay."

"I do not!"

"How much did that blue suit cost?"

"I hardly think that's any of your business."

"Your hair looks gay."

"My hair does not look gay!"

"How long did it take you to make it look perfectly messy, hmm? Twenty minutes? Thirty? An hour?"

"Leave him alone!" Jemma snapped, huffing, and James nodded, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Thank you."

"You have no right to make fun of him because he's gay."

"I'm not gay!"

A silence nearly as long as the ones the French 101 classroom had been burdened with followed, and Donna was the one to finally break it.

"Your hair does look sort of gay, though, mate."

The group burst into laughter at that, and James scowled, shaking his head.

"Bloody hell! I'll start this nonsense. My name is James McCrimmon, I am thirty-one years old, and I am  _not gay!_ "

"There's nothing wrong with being gay, though," Donna responded, and James shook his head.

"I never said there was nothing wrong with being gay-"

"You sort of did, though. You were too defensive."

"Oh, for crying out loud-"

"I think he's homophobic," Donna half-whispered to Harold, who nodded, and James clenched his fists.

"I am not gay, and I am not homophobic, and this is absolutely ridiculous! Just because I take pride in my appearance does  _not_  make me gay."

"Are you in the closet, mate?" Donna asked, smirking, and Rose cut in before the debate of sorts could escalate any further.

"Alright, alright. I think he's been tortured enough. I'll go next. I'm Rose Tyler, I'm twenty-six, and I came to Timesdale because I don't wanna be a shop girl for all my life."

The group nodded, and Jack piped up next. "I'm Jack Harkness, I'm twenty-eight years old, and you all already know why I'm here."

There seemed to be a silent agreement to go around the table after that, so Donna was the next to speak.

"I'm Donna Noble, I'm thirty-four years old, and I'm here because my mother wouldn't shut up about me getting some sort of degree so I won't be a temp all my life. I told her that I already have a degree in business, but does she listen? No, she never listens-"

"I'm Harold Saxon. I'm twenty-seven years old, and I'm here because my girlfriend wants me to make an honest living."

None of them questioned what he had been doing beforehand.

When all eyes fell on the youngest two members of the group, Jemma took the liberty to speak first.

"I'm Jemma Simmons. I'm twenty years old, and... I would prefer not to say why I ended up here."

"Oh, give me a break," James remarked, rolling his eyes. "We all know you're here because you couldn't get into a better college. Don't flatter yourself, sweetheart."

Shrinking down in her seat, staring at her hands instead of the others, Jemma frowned. No one needed to know that he was half right; they didn't need to know about her mental breakdown shortly before she was set to finish school, meaning she lost her chance at getting into somewhere worthy of her intelligence.

"You don't have to be rude to her," Fitz stated, frowning deeply at James, speaking up before anyone could cut in, "M' name's Leo Fitz. I'm twenty years old, too, and I'm here because I couldn't afford to go to a better school. I had scholarships lined up at the University of Strathclyde, but I lost 'em. My grades dropped before the end of the year, so I didn't meet the requirements. I have my reasons as to why that happened, and it's no one's business what they are, just like it's no one's business why Jemma ended up here. So just leave her the hell alone."

The silence this time around was deafening. Behind her honey coloured hair, a small smile pulled at Jemma's lips. No one had ever stood up for her like that before.

In his seat, James huffed quietly. Now he was the bad guy. Of course he was the bad guy. Did he care? No. He was a lawyer; he was used to being classified as "the bad guy". But, if he wanted to get into Rose's pants anytime soon, he had to up his game a little. He'd never get his shot if these people she seemed to be friends with hated him.

"I apologize," he stated, and Jemma peeked up at him.

"Apology accepted," she stated softly and, just like that, the tension dissolved.

"Alright, then. Now that that's settled, we should study, like Jemma said," Rose stated, and the others nodded in agreement. A second later, they were all looking expectantly, once again, at James.

"Oh, what now?" he asked, almost whined, and Rose crossed her arms over her chest.

"You're not mooching off of me this time. Go and buy a book so we can start."

"You're joking," he replied, nearly scoffing at the thought. "I'll buy a book before tomorrow's class. Surely one of you is willing to share with me until then."

All six of the group members were quiet and, after a moment, Jack spoke up.

"I guess you can share with me-"

"Nope," James remarked, getting to his feet and grabbing his bag. As if he'd share with Mr. Pretty Man. "I'll go and buy a book. You win."

Across the table, he saw Rose stand up, too.

"I'll walk with you."

He hadn't been expecting that. But, just the same, he nodded, gesturing for her to walk through the door first when he opened it for her.

"By all means."

Walking out ahead of him, Rose was quiet as they walked through the library and out into the hall, not speaking up until they were outside and walking across the darkening campus toward the school store.

"You didn't actually form the study group this morning, did you?"

"What?" James asked, frowning down at her as they walked. "That's ridiculous. You were just sitting with them. That was my study group."

"Oh, please. Do you think I'm stupid? Only one person who you invited showed up, and he happened to be the only kid who was still in the French classroom when I walked out. Admit it; you made the whole thing up just so that you could spend time with me."

Keeping quiet for a moment as they walked, surprised by how perceptive she was, James cleared his throat as they paused outside the entrance to the small store.

"It depends; would something like that flatter and/or charm you?"

Smiling, she rested her hands on his chest.

"Oh, James. James, James, James..."

Grinning down at her, he raised an eyebrow, flinching back when she took the opportunity to swat his chest, hard, with both of her palms.

"I think that it's pathetic. Why would lying to my face be flattering? It's certainly not  _charming_. You're a rude arse, and you don't deserve to be with that group of people."

His eyes widening with surprise, he huffed for the umpteenth time that day, scowling down at her.

"It's  _my_  study group! How can I not deserve to be with them? And have you  _met_  the ginger?"

"Her  _name_  is Donna."

"No, her name is Devil! She called me gay!"

"Technically, Harold called you gay."

"Don't get me started on him."

"Oh, I don't approve of what he said."

"Thank you!"

"I think it was insulting to people who are actually gay. No one would want to be associated with someone as awful as you."

Gaping down at her, James fumbled for a response, and she continued when he was unable to say anything.

"Just so you know, I looked you up after class. You're here because you forged a law degree and got fired for fraud. You're no better than the rest of us, and you certainly had no right to call out Jemma for not wanting to say why she was here when you failed to be honest about why  _you_  are here."

"I didn't say because it's-"

"If you say it's none of our business, I will hit you, and it will hurt."

Snapping his mouth shut, James frowned angrily.

"Now that you know this did the opposite of impress me, I want you to know one thing, James McCrimmon; honesty is important to me. You are a liar, and a cheat, and you're rude and just plain  _mean_. So why don't you go get in your fancy car and go home, because we don't want you in our group. You certainly didn't form it with the intention to study, and that's why we all joined. I'll see you in class tomorrow."

Watching as she turned and started back toward the library, James clutched the strap of his backpack more tightly.

"You give me flack for wanting to quit my own study group, and now you're  _kicking me out?_ "

"I don't like quitters. But I don't like liars even more."

Frowning further, trying to figure out something witty to say, James settled for, "Well... I don't want to be a part of the dumb group anyway! I can pass French 101 on my own with flying colours. Do you know why? Because I'm  _brilliant_ , Rose Tyler, and you're going to regret this!"

"I highly doooooubt it," she remarked in a sing-songy tone as she walked away and he pulled at his hair when she walked into the library, leaving him alone in the cool evening air.

Day one of Timesdale Community College; absolutely horrid.

One day down, nearly four more years to go.

He wasn't going to make it.


End file.
